


A Cornish Adventure (The Politician, The Light-House And The Trained Cormorant)

by Cerdic519



Series: Further Adventures Of Mr. Sherlock Holmes [72]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, Boats and Ships, F/M, Illegitimacy, London, M/M, Murder, Shipwrecks, Slow Burn, Unplanned Pregnancy, Untold Cases of Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 08:59:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15627276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerdic519/pseuds/Cerdic519
Summary: Sherlock travels down to Cornwall to help avenge a murder, although the compromise he felt obliged to offer the murderer has prevented publication of the story – until now.





	A Cornish Adventure (The Politician, The Light-House And The Trained Cormorant)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [A_Candle_For_Sherlock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Candle_For_Sherlock/gifts).



_Introduction by Sir Sherrinford Holmes, Baronet_

This was one of the two most requested 'lost' cases of my brother Holmes, rivalling that of the Abernetty Affair ('the parsley in the butter'), and it is with both relief and pleasure that I am able to release it to the Nation. Pleasure because of all the requests there have been for it, and relief because a gentleman who had every right to veto its publication has graciously waived that right. His mother, the lady in this story, passed on some years back, and when approached he asked only the right to look the story over first, which he was of course given. 

And as for the socially prominent personage who will doubtless be inconvenienced by the facts of his foul deeds being made known to the Nation – hah!

۩۩۩۩V♔RI۩۩۩۩

_Narration by Doctor John Hamish Watson, M.D._

There is, I have heard, something called The Law Of Unintended Consequences, something that is becoming increasingly important as government sticks its long nose more and more into our lives and strives to achieve A only to find that B happens instead. One such instance of good intentions having unforeseen results was the Secret Ballot Act of 1872, much needed as it stopped powerful landowners who had controlled the old pocket boroughs from forcing men to vote for their candidate under threat of the voters being thrown out of their homes if they refused. This led to a major shift in Irish politics as Protestant Irish landowners could no longer coerce their mostly Catholic tenants to vote for the old parties, as a result of which an 'Irish bloc' of some sixty Catholic members formed at Westminster. They often held the balance of power between the Conservatives and Liberals, siding with whichever group gave their country (or as certain newspapers cynically if correctly put it, their wallets) the most. 

It was thus possible for someone from the 'Irish bloc' to serve both parties in government, and one of the people who did that was an Irishman called Mr. Bareth Monaghan, a member of parliament who was a Conservative when elected at a by-election in late 'Ninety-One. When Gladstone returned to power in the election of 'Ninety-Two he lost his seat and was elevated to the Upper House as Lord Keady, whereon he suddenly exhibited a tendency to support the Liberals - as the _”Times”_ quipped, 'who'd have thought it?' - and soon after was being widely touted in the papers as possibly the next Lord Chancellor, leader of the Lords and one of the highest positions in the land. For the son of a fruit-seller from Ulster that was quite an achievement.

However, the next two years each brought a scandal that could (and in both cases should) have finished him. In 'Ninety-Three there was a sordid affair involving the preferential issuing of government contracts in return for sexual favours in which he was almost certainly guilty, yet somehow he managed to escape with his reputation intact. And only a few days before the end of the following year came the far more serious accusation that he had slept with a prostitute and had had a child by her in London. The evidence seemed conclusive, but then the lady in question retracted her allegations, and another witness claimed that Lord Keady had been with him at the time of conception. It was widely thought at the time that he was guilty (which he almost certainly was) but there was insufficient proof and he survived once more, leading the _“Times”_ to dub him 'Lord Non-Stick'. 

He seemed unstoppable. Until his son's actions threatened to bring down everything that he had worked for, and the two of them resorted to cold-blooded murder.

۩۩۩۩V♔RI۩۩۩۩

I sometimes wondered why I bothered with the _”Times”_ of a morning. I was sure that it only depressed me for the day ahead. Holmes yawned from where he was finishing his coffee at the breakfast-table.

“There is another speculative piece about Lord Keady”, I said. 

“The Thunderer hates the man”, Holmes said, rolling his shoulders. “What has he done now?”

“Not so much him but his son Ruaraidh”, I said, thinking it typical of the man that he had spelt his son's name the Irish rather than the English way; apparently he hated it that the newspaper always called him 'Barry'. “An alpha buck if ever there was one. He went to Brazil last spring to pursue a number of family interests there and returned last autumn. The paper says that he is implicated in a scandal and that it involved a lady, so that would be the second family dalliance within months. Their luck cannot hold forever.”

Holmes was not normally interested in the society pages, so I was surprised when he gestured me to read the article to him. I did so.

“'This columnist understands that a major scandal may be brewing over Mr. Ruaraidh Monaghan, the son and heir to the accident-prone cross-bencher Barry, Lord Non-Stick'”, I read. “'Our man in Rio de Janeiro states that a certain flame-haired lady, known only as 'Maria', is coming to England to discuss certain matters with the young buck. With regards to precisely what these are, we do not have that information as yet, but it must most certainly be grave if a lady is to venture a difficult Transatlantic crossing.” 

“Very true, but foolish”, was Holmes's comment. 

I looked at him in surprise. He finished his coffee before continuing. 

“I have had my eye on 'Lord Non-Stick' for some time”, he said, pouring himself a second cup. “The man has a brilliant criminal mind, but fortunately he is both lazy and blinkered. I am almost certain that he would not bestir himself unless, as in this case, either he or his family were threatened. Does your article say when the lady in question is to arrive in England?”

I scanned down the page.

“No”, I said. “You think that Lord Keady may try to stop her?”

“I very much fear so”, my friend said. “There are only so many ways that she could make the crossing, so it would be easy for him to work out which one she might use. I do hope that I am wrong.”

As ever, he was not.

۩۩۩۩V♔RI۩۩۩۩

A week later I breakfasted alone. Holmes had had to go round to see his brother Mycroft the evening before, and I knew full well that this meant that he would arrive home in a Mood and would probably sleep little as a result. I took a coffee into his room where he was still dead to the world, then returned to my morning paper and Mrs. Hudson's delicious breakfast. 

'The barque __“St. Eustasias”_ , out of Liverpool, has been lost with all hands off the Lizard in Cornwall', I read silently. 'It appears that she strayed too close to the coast whilst approaching the peninsula, and was wrecked near Mullion Cove. Her cargo of Mediterranean glassware has, regrettably if predictably, been looted by locals. No survivors have been reported although the lifeboat is said to have been missing, so it is possible that some of the passengers and crew made it to land. The ship left Lisbon on the eighteenth and made good speed to its penultimate stop at Queenstown in Ireland on the twentieth. She departed that port around mid-day for London. However, a misjudgement appears to have resulted in the ship attempting to turn before passing the Lizard, with fatal consequences.'_

_“And that is why we are expecting a client, Watson.”_

_I let out a most unmanly squeak. Holmes had appeared right behind me, clearly refreshed by his coffee and looking far too chipper for this time of a morning._

_“How did you know?” I demanded, feeling more than a little put-out. He sat down opposite me._

_“You always do a faint whistle through your teeth when you read something interesting”, he explained. “And I learnt of the ship's loss when I was with Mycroft yesterday – the information was small reward for his baleful company and what the Diogenes Club considers passes for food these days - so I knew that that article would be there today.”_

_He helped himself to a large breakfast before continuing._

_“Concerning the loss of the barque”, he said, “a Mrs. Evangeline Hurst wishes to consult with me on that very matter.”_

_“In what way is she linked to the sinking of a ship?” I asked._

_“Doubtless we shall find out when she arrives at nine”, he said. “Indeed, from the tone of her telegram I fully expect her to be early.”_

__

۩۩۩۩V♔RI۩۩۩۩

He was also right about Mrs. Hurst. At ten minutes to the hour Mrs. Hudson informed us that she had arrived and we were ready to receive her ahead of her time? Holmes replied in the affirmative as we waited her arrival.

The first and most obvious thing about our visitor was the mourning clothes that she was wearing. Holmes guided her to a seat, and sat opposite her. I took my usual place at the table, notebook at the ready.

“It is a dark case I lay before you today”, Mr. Holmes”, she said, and I noted immediately that there was a faint foreign accent in her voice, possibly Hispanic. “Have you read in the newspapers about the loss of the _“St. Eustasias”_?”

“Doctor Watson has relayed that story to me”, Holmes said. “May I assume, madam, that you have links with that and with the speculation surrounding Lord Keady?”

She lifted her veil and regarded him with dark eyes. I realized that she was younger than I had first thought, probably not more than thirty, and very beautiful. 

“My name is Evangeline Hurst”, she said. “I was born Evangelina Dalore in a small town not far from Rio de Janeiro, and when I was twenty-one I met and fell in love with my now-husband John, who is a merchant trader. My younger sister was Maria Dalore and it was she who was set to expose Mr. Ruaraidh Monaghan, Lord Keady's only son and heir.”

“Early last year I received a letter from my sister, stating that she was pregnant and that Mr. Monaghan was the father. When she fell ill and it seemed that she would lose both the baby and her life he admitted his paternity and left her, presumably thinking that she would die. However, not only did she and her child both survive, but the admission was overheard by two of her servants who later signed statements to that effect. She was ill for a long time, but recently recovered sufficiently to come to England and confront the man who had misused her so.”

“Go on”, Holmes said gravely.

“Maria knew how Lord Keady worked, so she tried to keep everything secret”, our guest said. “She took a ship heading to Europe, then got off at Lisbon and boarded the _“St. Eustasias”_ meaning to come to London. Unfortunately someone must have talked, for I read the speculation about her coming in the newspapers recently. She sent me a telegram from Queenstown to say that two of the crew had just been replaced, and that one of the new men quite frightened her. He had a trained cormorant in a cage and she felt that in some way that that was unlucky. My dear sister was always superstitious.....”

She stopped and dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief.

“I feel it in my bones that Lord Keady is involved in some way with the wrecking of that ship”, she said firmly. “But of course, I have no proof. I am certain that my sister has been murdered, and that the man behind the murder has got away with it!”

Holmes looked thoughtfully at her.

“Lord Keady will already know that you have consulted us”, he said. “I am sure he has taken the precaution of having you followed.”

She looked even more alarmed.

“Do not panic madam”, he said firmly. “Fortunately tomorrow is Saturday, and as Watson is free he can accompany me to Cornwall to investigate this matter further.”

She looked a little surprised at his agreeing to her request so readily, but smiled in gratitude. 

“I am returning to my husband's house in Hertfordshire”, she said, placing a small card on the table. “I would be intensely grateful to learn of your findings.”

She hesitated before departing.

“John wishes us to adopt Maria's son, Ross”, she said, so quietly that I barely heard her. “I know the Brazilian authorities may put up obstacles, but... he is my nephew, and he has no other family.”

“That is an honourable thing to do”, Holmes smiled. “If you take my card, I have certain contacts who may be able to help if the authorities are at all 'difficult', as well all know they are sometimes wont to be. And I promise that once I have definitive results from my investigations, I shall telegraph them to you.

She smiled at us, took the card then bade farewell and left. Holmes turned to me.

“The 8:40 from Paddington, changing at Truro”, I said promptly. “The Helston Railway opened only last month so I do not have the timetables, but we can always alight at Gwinnear Road and then carry onto Penzance if there is no train; I am sure there is transport from there to the Helston at least. Either way we would arrive around one, and if you wanted to be back here the same day we would have to leave shortly after four.”

He smiled his small smile.

“I am lucky to have you”, he said quietly, before leaning over to pick up his violin. I felt stupidly warm inside; I was getting soft in my... late middle age. 

But I could still spot it when he was not smirking, damn him!

۩۩۩۩V♔RI۩۩۩۩

As things turned out we were destined not to accomplish our Cornish excursion in a single day. A spring storm had flooded the main line around Weston-super-Mare and although the train was able to plough through, that delay meant that we did not reach Kynance until almost four o'clock. Fortunately that still left us about three hours of daylight after we had checked into a nearby inn.

“What exactly are we looking for?” I asked, as I struggled up a steep path that was verging on the diagonal. I was not unfit because of all the walking I did as a doctor, and it was patently unfair that a man who sat in his chair and solved crimes with the minimum of physical effort was moving effortlessly up the hill faster than I was. His being healthier than before had its downsides.

“Fire”, he answered.

“Fire?” I asked, nonplussed. 

He stopped so suddenly that I almost ran into him, then veered sharply left and headed across a barren patch of headland. The sun was out but the strong wind was whipping up the salt from the sea and making it feel bitterly cold.

“Remember Watson, that this is a wreckers' coast”, he said. “The government may be stronger these days, but the locals will always have the advantage of being first at the scene of a disaster. Often times one that they themselves have caused!”

I tried to ignore my aching ankles and hastened to keep up with him. Then I stopped in my tracks. Directly in front of us was what looked like a set of gallows!

“What the....?”

Holmes chuckled.

“You know your history, Watson”, he grinned. “Remember the Spanish Armada of 1588? Warnings were flashed to London by a system of beacons, their form of telegraph.”

I looked suspiciously at the beacon. 

“That cannot be old”, I argued. “Anything made of wood in this sort of environment would rot in weeks, months at most. It must be recent or at least recently maintained.”

“Excellent, doctor!” Holmes was genuinely smiling. “Anything else?”

I looked at the beacon some little time before it clicked.

“There is ash in the main part”, I said. “It was lit quite recently, otherwise all this damn wind would have blown it away. The rain or damp must have got into it and made it heavy enough to stay there until it dries out.”

“Even better!” Holmes smiled. “We will make a detective of you yet! Let us investigate further, and I think that we may yet enmesh 'Lord Non-Stick' in a net that he cannot escape from.”

However it seemed there was nothing more to find apart from some rotten fish remains, which seemed to fascinate Holmes for some reason. We returned to the hamlet of Kynance and our room. To my surprise he said he wanted to spend some time in the local tavern, but I was tired after both a long journey and a cliff-side walk so decided to turn in early. I slept like a log.

۩۩۩۩V♔RI۩۩۩۩

I was more than a little surprised, I must confess, when it seemed that the whole hamlet turned out to see us off the following morning. I thought that in this remote part of the world, such a reception was surprising even given my friend's increased fame after his 'return from death'. Especially when it emerged that one of the locals, a sulky-looking young fellow called Mr. Liam Dent, was coming with us part of the way. Not willingly, judging from his expression; he did not speak and glared at me like it was somehow my fault that he was there. Which it was not.

I think.

We only went as far as Truro where Holmes took us straight to the offices of a local lawyer, a prosperous one judging from its size. He told me that his business there would take several hours, and I might amuse myself by wandering around the town if I so wished. I of course went to the cathedral, and did some window-shopping before going back to the lawyer's where I had a further half-hour wait. When Holmes came out he was alone.

“Our 'friend' is not coming to London?” I asked.

“He is not needed”, Holmes said. “Besides, it would not be safe for him so to do. Did you manage to check the train times?”

“There is a train to Paddington in thirty-five minutes”, I said, looking at my watch. 

“Excellent!” he smiled. “This has been a most interesting adventure.”

Our journey back was mercifully trouble-free and we arrived at Baker Street to a late dinner. Mrs. Hudson, bless the woman, had thrown together a delicious stew which only needed to be reheated and we both devoured it eagerly. 

“Are you going to tell me what happened in Truro?” I asked later.

“Our friend was providing a witness statement”, Holmes said. “I wanted it recorded and officially copied, then telegraphed safely to a number of different locations with acknowledgements of receipt. I am sure that Lord Keady will make some attempt to prevent the truth from emerging, and I wish to make it impossible for him.”

“I am surprised that he did not have us followed to Cornwall”, I said. He chuckled.

“He would have done”, he said, “except that I sent Gregson a telegram asking that his men arrest the two watchers just before we left yesterday morning. Doubtless his lordship will have guessed where we would have gone, but as our friend held them all day before letting them go to tell him the bad news, there was little he could have done by that time. Except to grow wings and fly down there after us!”

I smiled.

“I have invited Lord Keady and his son here for tomorrow”, he said. “And hopefully I shall soon after be able to deliver some good news to Mrs. Hurst. Not maybe the news that she wants or even deserves, but as so often we must make the best of a bad situation.”

۩۩۩۩V♔RI۩۩۩۩

“Lord Keady and Mr. Ruaraidh Monaghan.”

It was wonderful how Mrs. Hudson could throw such complete scorn into the simple announcement of a pair of names. Both our guests looked after her in surprise, clearly bemused at how someone so far beneath them on the social ladder could dare to talk in such a way. 

Lord Keady was about fifty, gaunt and with badly-dyed hair. His son was a little over twenty-five, tall and supercilious-looking. He had a monocle which I guessed was more for effect that need. I disliked both of them on sight.

“You asked to see me, Mr. Holmes”, the peer said. “Pray keep it brief. I am due at the Lords in an hour.”

“I would be delighted so to do”, Holmes said with what I knew by now to be a totally false smile. “It concerns your grandson.”

Even with his pale skin, the peer turned a shade whiter.

“I have no grandson”, he said firmly. Holmes sighed.

“The result of an affair between your son here and a Brazilian lady named Maria Dalore”, he said. “He confessed to it when he thought that she was dying in childbirth, shortly before he abandoned her.”

“And you have proof of this?” Lord Keady sneered. “Where, _sirrah?_ I do not see it.”

Holmes looked hard to him.

“Before I relate the sequence of events”, he said, and his tone was cold now, “I wish you to understand something, my lord. I have a signed confession from one of the parties involved, signed and delivered in front of a quality lawyer. That confession has been legally copied and now resides in a number of separate locations. All are under instruction that, should any attempt be made to retrieve their own copy of the documents, then they will immediately alert all the others who will then supply said evidence free to all the principal London papers. I am sure that they would be fascinated by it, especially the _“Times”_ which, as you know, is hardly your most ardent supporter.”

The politician swallowed hard.

“He is bluffing, father”, the young man said scornfully.

“We shall see”, Holmes said. “Even though your son thought that the woman he so cruelly treated was left for dead, you kept a watch on her. And when she and her baby survived, you knew that one day there would be trouble.”

“She recovers enough to come to England, and you fear for both you and your son's future. The current Lord Chancellor has announced his intention to step down at Christmas, and you are tantalizingly close to a major office at last, one from which you could almost certainly lever your son into the political scene alongside you. You cannot risk this woman talking.”

“Your plan revolves around two groups of people. The first I do not know, but their job is to make sure that at a certain time, the light-house at the Lizard is taken out of commission for a few hours. They are not told why, but regretfully a large sum of money will buy the silence and co-operation of most men.”

“You know that Miss Dalore's ship the _“St. Eustasias”_ is to put in at Queenstown before going on to London. You buy off two of the crew and replace them with your own men, in particular a Cornishman named Nathan Dent. Though it is not he who will play a major role in the tragedy that is to befall the ship but his companion – a trained cormorant.”

I gasped. Both our visitors now looked deathly pale.

“Before the ship leaves harbour”, Holmes continued, “Nathan Dent sends a telegram to his brother Liam in the small hamlet of Kynance in Cornwall. That place lies a few miles west of the Lizard, and its location is important. Judging from the time on the telegram that Miss Dalore herself sent from Queenstown and the subsequent wind conditions in the western approaches, I estimated it would be the small hours of the morning as the ship approached the Lizard, although doubtless Mr. Dent would have been prepared to resort to sabotage to slow the ship had that not been the case. Even better for his and your evil scheme, a storm was brewing up and the clouds obscured the moon.”

“Shortly after the ship rounds Land's End, Nathan Dent dispatches the cormorant which flies straight to the cottage of his brother, not far from the beacon he maintains against the tempestuous Cornish weather. The bird is duly rewarded with a meal of fish, the remains of which we found near the cottage. Liam Dent lights the beacon, and with the Lizard light out the ship's captain steers around that light then turns east-north-east, on a course which should keep him clear of the coast most of the way to the Straits of Dover. Instead, he steers his ship straight onto the Cornish rocks.”

He fixed the peer with a sharp glare.

“Knowing the way that you work sir, I regret to say I am sure that before he left the ship Mr. Nathan Dent made absolutely certain that poor Miss Dalore had left this world. Now however we have the signed confessions of one of the men involved – do not look at me like that; I am not going to say which one – and much as it pains me to say it, I have to offer you a deal.”

“Holmes!” I protested.

“Publicity will only harm Mrs. Hurst and her family, let alone the boy”, he said. “Lord Keady, the deal is this. You will not accept the Lord Chancellorship. Your son may one day inherit your title and position in the Lords, but he too will refuse any high office. You and your agents will not harm Mrs. Hurst and her family, including your grandson, in any way, shape or form. She will bring the boy to England and raise him as her own, and neither you nor your son will so much as even try to contact him. He will have to be told the truth when he is twenty-one and, if he so wishes, _he_ may then choose to contact _you_. That is his prerogative. I must further tell you that if you break any of these conditions, then Doctor Watson will publish a full and frank account of this foul and evil business.”

The peer drew himself up and for a moment I thought he was going to strike Holmes. Then he seemed to slump, and almost snarled before sweeping round and heading out of the door. His son followed, sparing us a last angry glance.

“I wish that I could ruin the man”, Holmes said, sinking into his chair. “Lord, the pleasure it would give me so to do! But innocent people would get hurt and we owe it to that dear Hertfordshire lady to make sure that her sister did not die in vain, so that an innocent young boy can have a good life.”

“You acted for the best”, I said firmly. “I would have had to do the same.”

He reached back and placed a hand over mine.

“Thank you, my friend”, he said quietly. “That.... it means a lot.”

We stood there for some time, sharing a Moment together. Holmes was my friend, so I did not mind.

۩۩۩۩V♔RI۩۩۩۩

_Postscriptum: Young Ross Dalore arrived safely in England before the year was out and was indeed raised by his aunt and uncle. They offered to adopt him formally once he came of age but he declined, although he said that he was grateful for all they had done. He is a fine young man, and later came to work at a bank in the City where he rose to be manager. He chose to never contact his father or grandfather._

۩۩۩۩V♔RI۩۩۩۩


End file.
